A surprise and a tour
It's a strange generation my boys have been born into, so very different than my growing-up years.
Never will they have to get creative with the single paragraph of knowledge offered by a real-life encyclopedia volume with actual pages in order to complete a school report.
Never will they place a telephone order out of a paper catalog (there are those pages again!) and then hope for the best. This became all too clear the last time they ordered something off Amazon and tracked the shipping progress every. ten. minutes. Eye roll.
And rarely will they be surprised by the weather. Our weather apps with their DIY layering and time lapse radar have made us all meteorologists. It's kind of sad, as I can remember many times waking up in the blue house, peeking out the window and my breath catching over a fresh blanket of white on the ground. Part of the wonder and joy of childhood.
Well, the paid meteorologists around here missed yet another one, for their predicted passing flurries dumped a few glorious inches of snow on us this past weekend.
Joy abounding, the boys never even made it into the house Friday after school until they had scraped together grassy snowballs and chucked them hard, then stomping all over our land for a half hour, giggling and catching flakes on their outstretched tongues and forgetting that they're not really supposed to like each other.
Trudging inside with red cheeks and raw, wrinkled hands, they vowed to be back out after breakfast on Saturday. Fortunately the snow was measurable by then, and the winter revelry picked up where it left off.
Holy moly, the Lord is wrecking me with His blessing. I never would have even thought to ask for a white Christmas here in old Virginia, since it only happens maybe once in a decade. And a white pre-Christmas might be even better, all caught up in the spirit and anticipation. These are precious times.
And a precious boy offered to do the Christmas decor tour of the house. It's quite the quick pace, but my Trey's personality shining through the commentary and the sweet snow glowing through the windows makes it a definite keeper.
Merry, merry Christmas.
Never will they have to get creative with the single paragraph of knowledge offered by a real-life encyclopedia volume with actual pages in order to complete a school report.
Never will they place a telephone order out of a paper catalog (there are those pages again!) and then hope for the best. This became all too clear the last time they ordered something off Amazon and tracked the shipping progress every. ten. minutes. Eye roll.
And rarely will they be surprised by the weather. Our weather apps with their DIY layering and time lapse radar have made us all meteorologists. It's kind of sad, as I can remember many times waking up in the blue house, peeking out the window and my breath catching over a fresh blanket of white on the ground. Part of the wonder and joy of childhood.
Well, the paid meteorologists around here missed yet another one, for their predicted passing flurries dumped a few glorious inches of snow on us this past weekend.
Joy abounding, the boys never even made it into the house Friday after school until they had scraped together grassy snowballs and chucked them hard, then stomping all over our land for a half hour, giggling and catching flakes on their outstretched tongues and forgetting that they're not really supposed to like each other.
Trudging inside with red cheeks and raw, wrinkled hands, they vowed to be back out after breakfast on Saturday. Fortunately the snow was measurable by then, and the winter revelry picked up where it left off.
Holy moly, the Lord is wrecking me with His blessing. I never would have even thought to ask for a white Christmas here in old Virginia, since it only happens maybe once in a decade. And a white pre-Christmas might be even better, all caught up in the spirit and anticipation. These are precious times.
And a precious boy offered to do the Christmas decor tour of the house. It's quite the quick pace, but my Trey's personality shining through the commentary and the sweet snow glowing through the windows makes it a definite keeper.
Merry, merry Christmas.
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